Melt Slowly
by badaax
Summary: They almost killed their friend today, the world is falling apart around them and Rukia's own weapon nearly destroyed her. But yet in each other's arms, mouth against mouth, lips moving in a beautiful tango they find solace...The follow up to Many Nights...Rated M


**Disclaimer: Bleach and all related characters belong to its respective owner.**

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"…_Let it melt slowly Rukia. Take your time. That is a breathtaking bankai…"_

How can he breath when the air is frozen solid? How can his heart beat when ice is the blood in his veins? How can he see when everything around him is bathed in white? How can he keep living when the angel of death is the specter orchestrating it all?

_Rukia_, he breathes her name like a sigh, the word twisting and curling around his lips and spilling out of his mouth with a careless want. His hands twitch and tighten around the hilt of dual zanpakutō, black blades shinning darker than night. But it is his eyes and his heart that can scarcely hear over the roaring in his head.

_Rukia, _he thinks, no begs, she can't be here, not like this, not like a vision of the purest white, when all around her is stained with red. He shifts on the floor, his knees trailing in the blood rushing down his front. His gaze shifts to a shocked black haired man, his glasses askew, his glowing sword still wet with his friend's blood.

_How did it come to this?_ Ichigo wonders amidst the gore. He wonders how he came to trade blows with a man he considered a brother. Ishida Uryu, the last Quincy, Ichigo can't make that true and now he is paying for it.

He'd struggled to fight his friend, but Ishida was relentless, cold blue eyes flashing dangerously behind silver spectacles. Ichigo had taken more hits than he would have liked his resolve crumbling under the one enemy they had to have known he'd never be able to fight.

Now here he is, knelt and bent, bitter tears stinging his eyes, his throat raw from the screaming. He'd begged Ishida to stop but just like always he hadn't listened. He can still see the glint of seele schneideras it cut a fatal arc towards him, the blue light signaling his end. But then the flash of white steel cuts in front of him and the whispered word of bankai rushes to his ears. He knows that voice, that deep alto that stirs more than hope in him.

She's come to save him. Just like old times.

"_Hakka no togame"_

His head snaps upwards as her reiatsubuilds, rushing white of the purest snow billowing around him like a protective blanket. It's cold, bites at his exposed arms and torso but it cools the blood and stems the flow of his wounds. His eyes don't leave her face. They can't, not when she looks like this.

She's draped in white, her sword held tight in one hand, the fingers of the other relaxed but itching to move. Ishida attempts to move back, to distance himself from the icy warrior but before he can even think about using hirenkyakuthe world explodes in the coldest blast of freezing reiastu.

Ichigo can't believe it, if Rukia was cold before in bankai she is absolutely glacial. The air Ichigo breathes freezes before his eyes, the ice spreads to the walls, the ground breaking in subzero fissures. The red beneath him covers in ice and the chill creeps into his lungs.

"_Rukia_," he croaks in a gasp her name wheezing past his lips, his whole body going numb as the world slows to a stop. Ishida freezes in his own place, his skin turning purest white his lungs slowing to a stop. Ichigo wonders is it her intention to kill them both, because if she doesn't stop soon he'll fall apart just like the Quincy.

But then the cold is gone, flicked of like a switch, gasping breaths escaping him as heat floods into his bones. She's still in bankai, her sword still pointed at their friend, her face cold, emotionless and empty.

She is dressed in white, ivory ribbons dance across her skin, paler than the snow around her. Her kimono is of the finest silk and drapes her diminutive form like a gown of regality. Her hair is white and on her head sits a crown of ice, perfect for the Queen that she is.

Her frozen eyes shift to his for the briefest of seconds but he knows now, he knows that she is the one that released him from the icy prison of white mist she'd encased them in. The queen always protects the King.

Her eyes move back to Ishida and beneath the haze he can see the regret that she feels. Just like Ichigo she has no desire to destroy their friend. But this is war and sides must be picked, Rukia knows this better than anyone.

He can feel it building now, the inevitable, he fears that he is about to watch a friend disappear in front of him. But before he can even fathom the consequences of such an event there is a gust of swirling wind and the bluest of flashes, then Ishida is gone, spirited away by one of the traitorous brethren he now calls his own. They never even saw it coming.

One side of Ichigo is disappointed and angered the other is relieved beyond all words. He wasn't ready to watch him die, nor was he ready to watch him go by Rukia's hand. His eyes quickly dance from the empty space of frozen ice that had almost been Ishida's final resting place to the girl in reverent white.

He pushes himself to his feet, his swords left behind; he can't embrace her when he holds them. One of his hands presses against the worst of the gashes on his stomach, the blood flow slowed somewhat by the cold but not enough that the pressure doesn't help. He takes several labored steps forward, his free hand reaching for the woman bathed in snow.

She is ice and he is fire. It's how the world works, it's how _their_ world works.

He waits for her to lower her spiritual pressure and let her bankai fade away but she doesn't. He's almost on top of her now, his grateful smile becoming the fiercest of scowls. She doesn't look at him, she doesn't _look_ at anything. She simply stands, a silent sentinel, the frozen statue. She's scaring him now and he doesn't like it.

His hand reaches for her but pauses in the air, his fingers tantalizing close to her own. But it's in that moment he sees it, sees something that freezes his heart quicker and much more efficiently than her bankai. A crack. A fissure. A black impurity spreading on the white skin of her hand and arm.

His own hand clamps down on top of hers and the crack spreads. A single black line running along the length of her beautiful arm. He swallows almost painfully and tempers his fear. He needs to be here now; he needs to get through to her.

"Rukia," He whispers, accidental adoration laced into the single utterance of her name. "You can stop now. Please, let go." He isn't sure what else to say but he needs her to hear him. The crack slows its speed but doesn't stop running, the black disappearing to reappear on her beautiful neck, one that he has intimate knowledge of. He knows where she likes to be kissed and just how hard she wants it.

"Please Rukia, please melt slowly," His thumb runs across the back of her hand and the ice sticks to his skin and freezes him to the bone. Her hand twitches, it's the smallest of movements but it is enough. Her fingers lace with his and he can feel the heat coming back.

He watches with baited breath as her kimono falls away to be replaced with her uniform. The cracks disappear, leaving behind a jagged scar in their wake, one that doesn't bleed but trails the length of her skin marking her, like something primordial. His breath leaves him at the sight, her flawless skin marked by Shirayuki and the awesome might of her power. Rukia's bankai is beautiful but dangerous, just like her, it's the most perfect reflection of her soul.

"Ichigo," She whispers as the ice leaves her eyes and the violet haze returns. Her gaze rests heavily on his and in that moment they are one. One, always and forever, even if it's only for a second.

Her eyes drop to her sword, the silver of her unreleased blade blinking back at her. Then she spots the scar on her arm and her breathing falters just like his had done. The grip she has on his hand tightens. Her face falls into a wicked scowl and just like that the moment is gone.

"What is it?" Ichigo asks, his concern for her still paramount. Rukia sighs heavily her hand still clutching his. The clang of steel rings out as her sword hits the floor with a clatter.

"Byakuya told me to be careful. To not be reckless," She says slowly her eyes flicking back up to his. Ichigo sighs and tugs on her hand, her body slipping gratefully into his arms.

"I'm glad you were or I'd be dead," He mumbles against her hair, the beautiful raven locks still frozen in places. She's so cold, still frozen and frigid, she's thawing out but he needs to make her warm, he needs to be the heat her body is missing.

He doesn't make the conscious decision to kiss her but he does, his lips pressing almost desperately against her cold and trembling ones. Her hands fist in his hakama, his bare torso spreading blood across them but neither care, they are both oblivious to the world as their mouths meet in battle and the fear and the regret and the horror take route.

They almost killed their friend today, the world is falling apart around them and Rukia's own weapon nearly destroyed her. But yet in each other's arms, mouth against mouth, lips moving in a beautiful tango they find solace.

His hands move of their own free will, sliding inside the folds of her uniform, rough fingers trailing sparks along the smoothest of skin. How he longs to see it, to see the very thing he his gripping in his hands. A breathy moan escapes her beautiful lips, lips that are plump and wet from his kisses. Her hands clench tighter in his uniform, her strong arms pulling him closer against her, their groins bumping together with a delirious heat.

One of his hands finds her breasts, his capable fingers kneading and squeezing the way she likes. Her heady groan all the confirmation he needs that he's getting it right. They are oblivious to the world around them. The battle is over for now and they have no fear that they will be interrupted. It is just them. Ichigo and Rukia. Man and Woman.

His free hand parts the folds of her uniform, her white obi trailing to the floor with a careless ease. He shouldn't be doing this, not here, not in the open like this. But he just can't find it in him to stop, he needs to feel her skin against his, he needs to let his heat sink into the ice she's surrounded herself with, and judging from the way she's grappling at him to pull him closer, she wants the same thing. It has been far too long since that night in the Soul King's palace.

Their chests fuse together, the hard peaks of her breasts grazing against his still bleeding skin. They gasp at the feeling; moans of mutual desire and want escaping them. His hands slide round her waist, pulling her up, her hips guided around his own. He kisses her neck like it's the only thing in the world he has to do. His teeth nipping at the skin before his tongue soothes the marks.

His eyes open, despite him not remembering closing them and meet with Rukia's. Her gaze is mutual, they both want the same thing, to feel alive amidst the sting of death. She nods once, a slow gentle act of command, and then he's gone, scooping up both of their swords and stepping with shunpo across the battlefield to an abandoned storage hut. His hold on Rukia never falters.

Once inside he drops their swords in a pile by the door, which he locks with a swift kick, a wooden bar held across the middle. He turns, his arms painfully tight around Rukia, her mouth pressing wet and open kisses against his face and neck. He sets his sights on some torn sacks, the best bed they could ask for in this situation. He just needs her now, the location matters little to either of them.

His knees hit the ground a second before her back presses against the floor. He rips her out of her uniform, her hakama pulled down her legs with concussive force. Her hands made quick and light work of his own uniform in return, the shredded cloth thrown in the same direction as her own discarded robes. He leans into her, his body cocooning her from the world.

His name sounds in his ears, the word spilled from a panting mouth, a cold body squirming beneath his warm one. Her fingers knead his skin, tiny digits trailing lines of fire and ice across his hard chest. Her breaths are hot and heavy against his throat, their passion bringing them closer and closer to new heights.

He glides his fingers over breathless flesh, his nails toying with midnight curls before slipping down further between the apex of her beautiful thighs. A ragged groan escapes her lips as his fingers tighten around her clit. He toys with her, plays her just like she likes.

"Ichigo, there's no time, hurry," She pants against his ear, her tongue darting against his neck. He shudders above her, the feel of her in his arms almost too much to bear. She's right, there is no time, there never is. But it isn't the sex they need right now, it's the connection, the ultimate fulfillment of their fated bond.

Her hand grips him tight and she is the one to guide him to her welcoming entrance, their eyes meet for one tantalizing second as the world freezes. Then his hips push forwards and he sheaths himself inside of her. There is not a moment to waste, even here, in the middle of the battlefield; there is nothing to lose. This could be the last time they share each other, this could be the last time they live.

Her moans are muted by her hand as he pounds almost relentlessly into her, it's messy and sloppy and so unlike their usual dance. But this is war, and sometimes battles are over before they can even begin. Her hips meet him thrust for thrust, her strength and power stealing his breath even after all this time.

He lowers his pelvis, their stomachs and chest pressed flat against each other and Rukia hisses her approval with a strangled croak of his name. One of his hands closes around her breasts, his finger and thumb tweaking her nipple. His other hand snakes downwards and teases her clit, he's so very close now, and he knows she is too.

She grips the back of his neck, her once frozen skin now searing with the slick sweat between them. His lips descend onto hers with a desolate fury, their tongues dueling their teeth clashing.

She finally comes with a shaking groan, the sound escaping into his mouth and down his throat as his own roar of completion is swallowed up by her body. His hips slow their assault but he continues pumping, the last of his release trickling into her deflated form. She collapses beneath him, her hands still holding him impossibly close. One hand clutching his neck the other pressed flat against his ass in a desperate attempt to keep him inside of her for just a moment longer.

But then the moment is done and he slips out of her with a heated sigh. She relaxes her hold on him and he slumps beside her, his head resting on her shoulder, her hand in his sweat soaked hair, nails teasing his scalp and bringing him calm. Their mutual release had been quick but the message was clear, fear and terror bringing about closeness that scares them both.

"Rukia," He pants, his lips teasing her cooling flesh. Her hand tightens ever so slightly in his hair and she stills beneath him.

"Yeah?" Her reply is distant and soft, but filled with the warmth she reserves only for those who have earned that right.

"Your bankai," He begins not sure how to word the jumbled thoughts rolling around inside his head.

"What about it?" She asks and he almost has to laugh. There's something so surreal about lying here with her, in the midst of war, both of them naked and as vulnerable as they'll ever be.

"It's beautiful and dangerous, a bit like you," He scoffs before his scowl deepens. "But be careful Rukia, I don't want to see you get hurt," He goes for honesty and ends up sounding like an idiot. His emotions are a mess, his heart even more so, but the stench of death and the fear of failure can do that to a man.

"Fool," She whispers quietly her hand trailing lazily along his naked back. "I don't have to be careful, you'll always be there to make sure I stay in one piece."

His eyes land on the dark red scar now marring her beautiful pale flesh. His fingers reach out and trace the line, the one that runs the whole way up her left arm and along her neck to the edge of her jaw. Yes, he'll always be there, but he can't help but wonder if she's right this time?

His hand closes gently around her scared wrist and he feels her tremble beneath him.

"Promise me Rukia that you'll always melt slowly, I don't need you being a damn idiot about this," He sighs heavily his thumb running along the roughened scar. Her hand stills for a second before a sharp pain nips at his spine. Her fingers instantly retract from the pinch she gave him to smooth the marks.

"I don't have to promise you anything, you don't tell me what to do," She replies almost too harshly but then her voice softens, it is almost as if she can hear the angry retort building on his tongue. "But your word has always been good, maybe this time I'll listen to it. But it goes without saying that if I promise to remain in one piece then you have to as well."

Ichigo doesn't answer, he's not sure he can and besides it doesn't seem like she really needs an answer anyway. Slowly and almost reluctantly he finally pushes himself away from her. He climbs wearily to his feet before holding out a hand to her, which she accepts despite the fact that she doesn't need it.

They both walk quickly to their pile of discarded clothes and dress almost silently, Ichigo helping to adjust her kosode as she ties his obi. It seems almost too domesticated, the simple act of dressing each other, but its through actions they speak and when she presses her lips against his chest, or he runs his fingers through her hair, they can feel the anxiety in their touches they can feel that forbidden thing that neither say but both still feel in abundance.

They collect their zanpakutō without word, but the silence is comforting, it is the only time they find comfort when they are with each other and the simple gentle pulse of their reaitsu's wrapping around the other is all that they need.

"Ichigo," Rukia finally says breaking the silence as he slowly slides back the lock on the door. He turns to face her, his expression already drawn into a fierce scowl. He knows her tone, she's about to scold him or worse harden his resolve. Her violet eyes flick up to his and he almost loses himself in the depth of emotion there. He wants to be lost so badly, but life neither works out that way.

"They will send Ishida to you again but next time you have to be prepared to do what needs to be done, you know that don't you?" She asks, no_ demands_, her eyes shooting the fire he feels in his chest. He swallows hard and nods, his eyes flicking away from hers as he foolishly hopes she can't see how much that thought pains him.

"Hey," An alluring alto voice says, a small but firm hand touching his cheek and guiding his gaze back to hers. "He's not your friend now, he's your enemy. But if there is anyone that can get him back it's you. Don't give up hope yet. Now let's go, we've both slacked off long enough."

"Yeah you're right," He smirks dryly back his hand closing around one blade, the other attached securely to his back. Rukia moves Sode no shirayuki to her left hand, the fingers of her right automatically reaching out sideward. His hand finds hers, their fingers entwining in an almost painful embrace. Neither say it but he knows the truth. This time they go together, this time they fight as one and this time they win. For what is the king without his queen? The sun without his moon? Ichigo without his Rukia?

_Thank you_, _Rukia _he thinks as they walk together back into the battlefield, hearts and minds ready once more.

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**Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed.**


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